


For Just One Night

by justthehiddles



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Haunting, Kissing, Mentions of Death, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27063010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justthehiddles/pseuds/justthehiddles
Summary: You have moved into Allerdale Hall in hopes to restore the home.  What you don’t realize is that the ghost of Sir Thomas Sharpe wanders the halls.  Until one night, when his presence becomes known.
Relationships: Thomas Sharpe/Reader
Comments: 17
Kudos: 78





	For Just One Night

As far as spirits go, Sir Thomas Sharpe, for the most part, was a benevolent one. In the near century and a half of haunting the halls of Allerdale Hall, Thomas had a hand only in maybe three or four suspicious deaths. Two were brutes of husbands, beating their wives and the last two an unfortunate accident with a candle. After the fire burned out most of the third floor and roof, Allerdale Hall sat empty. A ghost itself. Thomas spent most of his days either in the remains of his workshop, which had been spared in the fire, or the library on the first floor. He had resigned himself to an eternity of silence and solitude until one day boxes appeared in the front hall.

-

“Just take those marked ‘master’ to the second floor.” you commented to the movers. The men nodded and lifted the boxes, heading towards the elevator.

“No, not the elevator!” You held up a hand, rushing to block their path. “I haven’t had the electrician out to test it yet. I would hate for you to get trapped between floors.”

The men nodded and trudged towards the ornate staircase. When one of them dropped a rather large box of clothes, it jostled Thomas from his thoughts.

“What the devil?” he muttered to himself, moving through the door to peer over the railing. Although he had the ability to float through walls and floors, Thomas always preferred walking, well floating, through doorways. Somewhere deep inside of him, he convinced himself hanging on to these last vestiges of humanity was worthwhile.

“Careful!” you hissed, running up the stairs.

“Yes, ma’am.” The men scurried up to avoid another scolding. You shook your head and headed back to the ground level and into the kitchen to unpack.

“Most interesting.” Thomas commented and headed down to get a closer look at you.

As you walked into the kitchen, your phone rang. You jumped, reception was terrible up here and you were surprised there was any signal.

“How’s the old haunted house?” your friend chuckled on the other end of the line. You put the phone on speaker so you could unpack your dishes.

“There is no evidence this place is haunted.”

Thomas knocked over a container on the other side of the room. You spun around, jumping at the noise.

“What were you saying?” your friend commented. “I heard that scream.”

“It is the house settling.” you lied. You picked the container off the ground. Your hand passed through Thomas all you noticed was a chill. “All the place needs is a little love.” You wiped off some dust.

“I could tell you better things to do with your inheritance than fix up condemned English manor.” Thomas wrinkled his nose. “Like buying your best friend a motorcycle.”

“Mother always talked about coming here and fixing up the place.” your voice grew quiet. “Restoring it to all its former glory. Before she got sick.” You sniffled.

“Oh love, I’m so sorry. Listen, once you make the place habitable, I will be your first overnight guest. And in the meantime, text me all the spooky things that happen.”

“For the last time, it’s not haunted.”

“There were at least five murders there, sweetie. Of course it’s haunted. Toodles!”

You huffed and pocketed the phone. You stared in Thomas’s direction. He swore you could see him. Until you spoke.

“It’s going to be great, Mom. I promise.” You stomped away, brushing right past Thomas.

-

The days stretched into weeks and Thomas wandered from his workshop more and more. He would float from room to room until he would find you, taking photos, measuring, or marking things down things in a small notebook.

That evening Thomas found you asleep on one of the chaises. There were papers spread out on the floor and the nearby table. Thomas examined the book on your lap. The title read The Sharpes. Thomas frowned. Not a happy tale. Thomas’s family history was filled with failure, fear, and death. As though a curse fell upon the family name. It relieved a part of Thomas the family bloodline died with him and Lucille. A small part.

He grabbed the blanket off the back of the sofa and let it fall onto you. When he moved to place the book on a table, he spied one of your notes scribbled on a scrap of paper. _Poor Sir Thomas Sharpe. Manipulated and abused by his sister. Died too young._ Thomas stumbled, knocking over a stack of books perched on the edge of the table, jolting you awake.

“Who’s there?” you called out, clutching the blanket you didn’t remember pulling onto you.

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. What would he say? How would you react? Would you even hear him? Instead, he turned and walked through the bookcases to head to the workshop.

You collected your notes and picked up the books before heading up to bed.

-

The priority had been to fix the roof, with colder weather getting ready to set in. You paid through the nose, but the workers completed the work just days ahead of the first snow.

Thomas had been forced from his solitude in the workshop by the workers. He wandered the halls, and he more often than not found himself wherever you are. Just watching and observing. If he weren’t dead, Thomas would swear he was infatuated with you.

“I told you the place for haunted.” your friend commented over the phone.

“Aren’t spirits supposed to be malevolent? Because if I am being haunted by a ghost, it is a friendly ghost.”

“Oh shit, you are being haunted by Casper!” your friend collapsed into giggles.

Thomas was hanging out in the corner, listening in on your conversation.

“I am not being haunted by Casper!” you lowered your voice, as though you realized Thomas was listening in. “I am going to sound crazy, but I think I am being haunted by Sir Thomas Sharpe.”

His head snapped up. “I’m here!” he called out, but you didn’t hear him.

“Sir Thomas Sharpe, the psychotic murderer?!”

“He is not a psycho! Don’t say that!” Thomas floated closer to you. “His sister manipulated him. And he did the right thing in the end.”

Your friend scoffed. “You don’t honestly believe that trash of a book by that crackpot.”

“Lady Edith Sharpe is not a crackpot. Ghosts are real.” You shifted from side to side.

Thomas floated through the wall in anger, knocking down a framed portrait.

“Got to go.” you hung up the phone to rehang the portrait.

-

That night was the anniversary of Thomas’s death. He wasn’t sure why he knew, but he always did. The day always hit him differently. He didn’t wander the halls as usual. Didn’t seek you out. Until he overheard something downstairs late that night.

“DAMN IT!” you threw the letter towards the fireplace but missed; it landed off to the side. You collapsed upon the bed.

Thomas found you sobbing on the bed. His eyes darted around the room to find the source of your anguish, something out of place. He found the letter on the floor.

_… I felt it would be too impersonal to send this via text or over the phone, but the fact of the matter is I will not be coming to join you for the holidays. I know I said I love you, but I lied. I was in love with the idea of you. This girl with ambition and drive. And now all you want to talk about is that stupid house and Sir Thomas Sharpe. Honestly, I think you might be in love with a ghost! It is so boring. So I am ending things. And just so you don’t hear it from anyone else first, Cecily and I have taken up together. I know she is your best friend, but she understands me, understands my soul. I hope we can be friends down the line._

_Sincerely,_

_Michael_

“I should hang the fucking bastard for such a callous brush off.” Thomas hissed.

You bolted upright. “Who said?” You chased the shadows cast by the fire.

“You can hear me?” Thomas moved to the end of the bed.

“Who is ‘me’?” You narrowed your eyes. “And why are you in my bedroom?”

Thomas closed his eyes and invisible tears welled up. Only they weren’t invisible. The wetness brushed against his cheeks.

“HOLY FUCK!!” you screamed, scrambling from the bed, clamoring towards a corner. You grabbed the nearest object as a weapon. An alarm clock.

Thomas held his hands up, marveling that they were whole. “I will not hurt you. I promise.” He stepped towards you. “Please put it down and I’ll answer your questions.”

You took a long look at the man in front of you, only now noticing the old fashioned clothing and hair. He seemed just as confused as you were at the whole situation. You glanced at the ineffective weapon in your hand and returned it to the nightstand. “Talk.”

Thomas perched himself on the end of the massive four poster bed, original to the home. His long legs stretched in front of him, his boots solid on the rug. “I’m uncertain what powers have allowed you to see me. Perhaps it is the anniversary of my death—”

“Today is the day you died?” You stepped to Thomas’s side and reached out and touched his face. He leaned into your palm. It had been centuries since he had any warmth in his existence. “You seem familiar?”

Thomas regained his composure and straightened himself to his full height. “Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet.” He clicked his heels and bowed his head.

“Edith’s husband.” you murmured.

“I am hardly worthy of the title, but yes.” Thomas’s eyes dropped.

You reached out and pulled his chin up as he fidgeted with his fingers. “You saved her life. In her writings, she speaks of you with great fondness.”

Thomas half smiled. “A minor consolation for the monster I was. I am truly what they write about in horror stories. I am certain it was I am doomed to wander these halls for an eternity, contemplating my misdeeds.”

You stepped in front of Thomas, who shifted his position, allowing you to step between his legs. “You judge yourself too harshly, Thomas. I believe Lucille twisted your kind heart and soul for nefarious purposes.” You cupped both of his cheeks in your hands. “I’ve read the journals and the books in the libraries. You are worthy, sir.” Thomas stared at you with crystal clear blue eyes, brimming with tears. To this day, you weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, tentative.

Thomas stiffened for a moment before encircling his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His heart pounding against you, although it wasn’t possible. He inhaled against your mouth and you slid your tongue into his, exploring and needy. Thomas’s hands clawed at your thin t-shirt. He pushed you away, heaving.

“Apologies.” He twisted from you in shame but did not leave.

You smirked. “For someone out of practice for a century and a half, it was a pretty damn good kiss.” You lighted your hands on Thomas’s thighs, which flexed under touch. “I wonder how you are at other…” You licked your lips. “… activities.”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “Such activities would be highly…” His body betrayed his words as his cock twitched within his trousers. “… inappropriate and unorthodox.”

“You’re a ghost, Thomas. This entire conversation is unorthodox.” Your hand slid towards his crotch. “Your cock would seem to have other ideas.”

Thomas gulped. “An involuntary reaction. I assure you I have not spied on you when you have been in any state of undress.”

You clicked your tongue. “That’s a shame.” You kissed Thomas again, more urgent. Your hands palmed him through his trousers and he groaned into your mouth. “Tonight is a gift, Thomas. We shouldn’t squander it.”

“I… I…” He burbled, flustered.

“Stop punishing yourself. You died, Thomas. I think you have been punished enough. For once, do something that makes you happy.” You tugged at his shirt. “Just for one night.”

Thomas contemplated your words for a moment and then lunged toward you with a hunger. He cupped your face as he kissed you, nipping his teeth at your lower lip. The two of you spun around and Thomas walked you towards the bed. You hit the mattress with a soft bounce and Thomas crawled on top of you.

“I have missed the warmth of another.” Thomas growled. “The comfort…”

“That makes two of us.” You pulled his shirt over his head and fumbled with his trousers, yanking at the buttons. Thomas stood up.

“Allow me.” He pushed his trousers to the floor along with the rest of his undergarments, leaving his bare to your ear. Thomas lean and muscled, not what you expected of a baronet. Not that you even knew what a baronet should appear. “Perhaps you may offer me to the same courtesy.” Thomas noted your searing gaze upon his form.

“Right…” You pulled the t-shirt off, dropping it to the floor and shimmying out of your pajama bottoms.

Thomas caged you back against the mattress, catching your lips. His hips pressed against you as your legs fell open to either side. Your arousal slicking against your folds, threatening to soak the bed linens.

“Darling,” Thomas breathed in between sucking along your neck and collarbone. He left dark marks upon your skin. “I need you.”

You nodded, sliding your hand between your bodies, grabbing Thomas’s shaft, tugging on it. Thomas groaned against you as he pushed into you. You moaned and dug your nails into his shoulders, holding on for dear life. As though Thomas would disappear at any moment.

“Yes… please.” you begged, bet it to Thomas or whatever powers that be.

Thomas leaned down to take your nipple into his mouth as he thrusted against you, twisting his hips. You arched your back towards his mouth, savoring every touch, every moment. Thomas released you from his mouth only to give the same treatment to the other. He was delicious.

“I’m close, love.” Thomas’s thrusts faltered. “But I wish for you to have your release as well.” He snaked his hand to find your bundle of nerves and rubbed against it with his thumb.

“Thomas!” you yelled as your orgasm washed over you. Your walls clenched around Thomas and he gasped as he came with one last thrust, spilling inside of you.

He rolled off to your side before moving to leave. You grabbed his hand. “Stay.” One word communicated so much to Thomas.

“I don’t know how long I shall stay in this form.”

“All the more reason. Stay with me. I don’t want to feel alone anymore.” A tear marred your cheek.

Thomas leaned down to kiss your lips with tenderness and wiped away the tear, only to wipe away a tear of his own which fell to your cheek. “Then I shall stay.”

Thomas pulled you close to him, wrapping his arm around your waist. You wiggled into the curve of his body, comforted by his unnatural warmth. You closed your eyes and drifted off at peace. “I will see you in the morning, Thomas.”

He closed his eyes. “One can only hope.”

-

You awoke the next morning to find the bed empty and cold. On the nightstand was a small letter. Your name scrawled on the outside. You unfolded the paper to read the word.

_Darling,_

_As I feared, my mortal state was temporary and I have once again returned to the spirit world. But know that you are not alone. I am here, watching over you, to ensure no harm shall could to you. I can never repay the kindness, comfort, and love you showed me last night. And I can only hope that whatever powers allowed for our coupling last night will see fit to do so again. Until then, I shall remain._

_Yours,_

_Thomas_

You glanced around the room for a sign of Thomas. You jumped as the lights flickered. Thomas smiled as you pressed the letter to your chest and tucked it away in a box on the dresser. You took to talking to Thomas as the days went by, asking him about decisions about the house. Thomas would respond, knowing you couldn’t hear him but would cause the lights to flicker or drop a book to signal his answer. About a month afterwards, you missed Thomas more than usual.

“I wish I could kiss you, Thomas. I miss you so.” you sighed, your eyes welled up with tears.

“I wish the same, darling.” Thomas called out.

Your head snapped toward his voice. “Thomas?”

His face lit up as you ran and wrapped your arms around his neck, covering his face in kisses.

“It would appear the powers that be look favorably upon us, love.” Thomas kissed your lips with a passion and fire you had never known. “I suggest we take full advantage of our time together.”

You nodded. Thomas swept you in his arms and carried you up the stairs into the master bedroom. You already tugged at the buttons of his shirt, kissing the bare skin of his neck.

“If you continue in this matter, darling.” Thomas’s eyes sparkled. “I shall be forced to take you here upon the stairs.”

You giggled. “As long as you take me, I do not care.”

Thomas paused and kissed you again, careful not to drop you. “Thank you, darling. For loving me as I am.”

“Thank you. For staying.”


End file.
